Sheriff Michael Anders had been sheriff of Riddlefield for twenty years, and had served as a American army ranger for another ten, and in that time he'd seen things that would make jack the ripper look small time, mass murders, regime changes, and gang warfare the size of civil wars. Riddlefield was a mess, every crime possible had a place here, from muggings to murder, it could be found here, and yet, when the gun runners got a new member, it always made him shudder, and he wasn't a man that was disturbed easily, this was the man who got into a gunfight with twenty gang members, and was able to kill half of them before backup arrived, he was a veteran on the force, a living legend, and it still hurt him when he saw dead civilians. Looking around the twisted wreckage of what was left of the bus, bodies hung from the rafters, and blood and organs coated the seats. He took a long drag on his cigarette, let it exhale slowly, the smoke drifted up until it a drone flew in and vacuumed the smoke analyzing it, and then pumping it out again. Walking out of the bus the chaos of the scene unravelled, the air was littered with EMS and news helicopters, buzzing through the air, some trying to save lives, and some getting tonight's breaking news. Sadly the news choppers seemed to be doing a better job. He passed a paramedic and a reporter arguing, the paramedic wanted to use the news choppers for transport, and the reporter was talking about a price, sighing, the sheriff walked on. Drones hovered and sped all over the place, scanning victims for insurance documents, doing basic interviews, then leaving, fire fighters were busy cutting open cars to get at victims inside, over all, it was bad. Once in the open, the sheriff noticed who he was looking for, a deputy by the name of Phil.
"Phil, get over here!" he shouted, trying to be heard over the buzz of the helicopters and drones.
Phil raised his head, looked in the direction of the sheriff and started sprinting towards him "hey sheriff, listen this reporter wants to have an interview with whoever's in cha-"
"Deputy, I don't have time for reporters, I need to know what's going on" he said, going straight for the point. The sheriff hated press, they got in the way; he usually had Phil do that. Not that Phil was much of a TV guy; he looked ridiculous with a Kevlar vest on top of his white shirt and tie. Glasses slightly bigger then they needed to be.
"yessir, all right, the paramedics say about thirty two people were killed by a combination of bullets and crashing, not a lot of survivors, one guy made it out ok but he didn't have insurance so we had to leave him, he's in line for the local hospital, anyway, I get the feeling this is gun runner, mostly because they knew what to look for, slow line of traffic with a faster or reserved lane next to it, they didn't shoot the cars in front, and they hit their target, most of the dead had headshots, not to many bullets in the side panels. Most witnesses say they saw a silver Hyto 2059 Jora, either three or four in the car, hard to tell what age they were, and they were using a shotgun and some type of machine gun, perhaps a hybrid of a LMG and an assault rifle." Phil may look like a nerd, but he knew how to impress, and he could get info, which was why the sheriff kept him around. Before he could ask any more questions though, his heads up display lit up, sergeant kande was reporting in.
"Sergeant, this better be important" he said, anxious about what it was
"Sheriff, we found the gun men and are on their trail, permission to use lethal force?" said the sergeant, it seemed that the police force was becoming more and more like the army, but after seeing this, he wanted to finish off the heartless bastards who did this himself, checking his vintage 2016 45 calibre law maker revolver. "Negative sergeant, I want to finish these punks off myself, continue pursuit until I get there" years of experience made his word pretty much the word of god, he knew he could wrap this up quickly, but he had to know with his own eyes that justice was served.
"Phil, get me a squad car right now, we got lawmaking to do".
Meanwhile with James and company
James was on the verge of breaking down, he was ashamed, he'd bent to the psycho, he'd done what Tommy asked in order to get it, and he'd killed innocents, and the fact that he'd actually shot at that hatchback. That could've been him. He could have been leading a normal life, driving to his friend's house, and then suddenly he could've been shot at and killed by a moron with a psycho addiction. His train of thought was derailed by Tommy.
"Hey, you see that car? Been following us since the drive by, what'd you think Ralph?" said Tommy, his head swivelled around so he faced rear window.
"Maybe, maybe, but this is pretty far into industrial, cops never go into industrial" replied Ralph, like he was commenting on the weather, his coolness about crime was eerie to James, even Tommy got jumpy, it was like Ralph was stoned most of the time, given that he was one of Tommy's friends that was most likely the case.
"Well if they are, then they're in for a surprise" replied Tommy, still looking at the car.
James was gripping the wheel; his face was covered in sweat, part fear of being busted, part shame of what happened, hoping that this would all blow over. That Ralph wouldn't get the chance to recommend him as a gun runner. But the psycho he could get from the gang would be worth it, maybe convince them to start shipping drugs, move them around and get a skim of the product; he could either be Tommy's pawn the rest of his life, or become what he hated.
"Oh shit" said Tommy "oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" he cried, looking back James could see what the problem was, a police cruiser had joined the trailing car. Sirens started blaring, the cops were onto them.
"Fuck, the cops!" yelled Ralph, looking around helplessly "what we do?" he asked, sounding pathetic for a murderer.
"We kill them" said Tommy, "we teach the cops a lesson about fucking with the gun runners! Ralph, toss me a new clip, I'll shoot 'em from the sunroof"
Ralph dug around in his bag for a clip, a few seconds later he found one and tossed it to Tommy, who was getting impatient.
"Tommy, take this" said James tossing back his machine pistol, "in case you run out of ammo." He said, making up an excuse to not shoot anyone.
"Thanks James" said Tommy, it may have been the stress or the psycho wearing off, but it sounded like Tommy was actually being thankful. Ralph slid in one more shell, pumped the shotgun and opened the door to get a better shot; he got off one shot, hitting the first car's hood, before a thunderous gunshot erupted from the second car and half of Ralphs head was missing.
"Holy shit!" cried James, shielding his eyes from the blood pouring out of place where Ralphs forehead used to be.
The dead body was hanging from the seat belt, wobbling slightly with the speed of the car, gore covered Ralphs side of the car, a blood streak covering the rear windows on the outside. James stopped staring at the dead body long enough to see an eighteen wheeler coming at them, another gunshot was fired at their car, Tommy swore when they swerved, James looked up to see an enormous hole a foot away from Tommy's chest. The cop cars were gaining on them, James looked at Ralphs body "too much weight" he thought, and then quickly swerved the car, shaking the body until it fell out of the car. "James what the fuck, you trying to k-"he was cut off by a huge crunch sound, Ralphs body was now Jammed into the wind screen of the second cop car. Tommy laughing hysterically as they drove away.
The sheriff
Sheriff Michael had ordered a cruiser, and by god he got one, Phil arrived five minutes later with a cruiser, sheriff got into the driver's side, and floored it to the nearest exit. Phil as usual had concerns
"What if they shoot at us?" he asked, sounding like a moron in the sheriff's ears
"Then we shoot back" he said bluntly, preferring to not worry about things like morale, instead keeping his eyes on the road. He brought up his heads up display "Sergeant, what's your status?"
"Sir, we are still behind them, I get the feeling they saw us but we're fine" he answered, his voice seemed distracted, most likely because of the driving.
"We'll be there in five minutes tops" replied the sheriff, the slightest hint of urgency could be heard, but only if you knew to look for it.
"Sir, this is industrial, no one I know ever patrols industrial." Phil was nervous; he was a numbers guy, not someone you want in a fire fight.
"Calm down, we're here to kill some fugitives and that's it."
"yessir" replied Phil, still hiding in his Kevlar vest like a turtle.
"That's them, light up the sirens, we have our target" Phil, lit up the sirens, immediately the occupants in the chase car started moving, passing around things, most likely trying to hide something, then someone jumped out of the sun roof and started shooting at the sergeants car. He began to swerve to avoid the gun fire, a fat guy opened the door on the chase car, holding a shotgun, firing off a round at the cruiser, a huge hole was ripped open in the hood, the sheriff grinned, and Phil squealed and shielded his face with his scrawny arms. Michael aimed his revolver through the window and fired, and the fat guy dropped his gun on the street and was barely held in place by the seat belts grey matter and blood dribbled on the road, some getting on the windshield, Phil turned the wind shield wipers on. Michael took aim again, aiming for the thug with the assault rifle, but just as he fired the car swerved and dodged a semi truck, cursing he took aim again, but before he could, the fat guy fell out of the car, hit the tarmac, got some air, and hit the cruiser like a sack of potatoes fired out of a cannon.
When Michael woke up, he found that the cruiser had lost control and hit the side of a building. Looking over at Phil, it was clear he was dead; half his head was caved in by the fat guy's body. Clutching his broken rib, Michael struggled to get out of the cruiser. He walked over to the sergeant's cruiser, the glass riddled with bullet holes, looking inside he was disappointed to see both the sergeant and his partner riddled with bullets.
"Gun runners, I'm too old for this crap."
James looked back at the carnage that lay behind them; the first cruiser was a mess of bullet holes, the second wrecked by Ralph's body. Half of the car was buried inside the side of a warehouse. Tommy ducked back into the car, sighing with the satisfaction of a job well done.
"always did make a second trip to the lunch line Ralph, guess those extra burgers really did help eh James" Tommy grinned at his joke. Leaving James to wonder if Ralph had known what Tommy thought of him.
"you ok Tommy?" asked James
Tommy looked confused "yea, no bullet holes, I'm fine. Why'd you ask?" he replied
"I'm talking about Ralph; he was your friend right?" James said, starting to sound worried
"Yea I'm fine, guy knew the risks when he helped out, that reminds me, we gotta make a stop at the gun runners car lot" said Tommy coolly.
James stayed silent as they drove on. Hopping everything was behind him, the violence, everything.
They abandoned the car at a small scrap metal dealer working with the gun runners. With a nod the owner took the car in and gave the brothers a few hundred for the car.
"I'm guessing we take a taxi from here?" said James
"yep, just wait here alright" said Tommy, already calling a taxi.